The Grove Park Misfits Concert
by Hakluyt
Summary: After the events of 'Rock n' Roll' Express, the Misfits wind up on the road, low on gas and even lower on money. They pull over into a friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and they start experiencing many strange things...
1. Chapter 1

The American Southwest seemed to go on forever.

"Are we ever going to get there," Roxy groaned from the back seat of the minivan.

"I can't very well make the road shorter, can I," Jetta snarled from the driver'sseat. She had to shout to make herself heard over the dirt road throwing gravel over the bodywork.

"Maybe somebody who knows how to drive on the right side of the road should be doing it," Roxy snapped back.

"Shut up, both of you," Pizzazz hissed. "I'm trying to navigate." There was a rustling of paper as Pizzazz wrestled the map around in the front passenger seat.

"We've been going for hours," Stormer yawned from the back seat. "Where are we trying to get to again?"

"The damn airport to get back to L.A.," Pizzazz snapped. "Any damn airport! This whole thing is a fucking disaster!"

Stormer winced and tried not to call attention to herself. That morning they'd been turned loose by Jem and the Holograms. Softie that she was, Jem hadn't turned them loose in the empty desert, but at one of the Western railway towns they'd been touring, which had a car rental. Pizzazz had slammed plastic and they'd headed out onto the back roads with a map, some jugs of water, and their kit crammed into the back. Stormer wasn't sure why they'd brought all their instruments at all; they'd come out here to mess with the Holograms' concert, not play one themselves. And yet Stormer herself had insisted on bringing them. She'd supposed that somewhere along the line, she'd hoped it'd be about the music, not just obstructing their rival band. Maybe they could crash one of the concerts and...

"Finally," Pizzazz cried, jolting the others.

"Finally what," Roxy whined.

"Highway," crowed Jetta, and the van lurched as she veered onto a new road, and the rumbling rattle and vibration of back roads turned into the subtler vibration of paved road. The tension in the van abated somewhat. Within a couple of minutes, Roxy started to snore, and Stormer pulled out her notebook and started up again working on some lyrics. She wasn't even sure what time it was, but it felt really late.

"Have we got enough gas to get...anywhere," she asked anxiously after a while.

"Of course we do," Pizzazz said in that particular certain way that meant she wasn't sure at all.

"I haven't seen a bloody exit in over an hour," Jetta said tightly.

Roxy snored again, loudly. And at first, Stormer thought that was what had done it. Jetta swore explosively and the minivan swerved, the brakes screeched louder than Pizzazz, and they lurched to a halt.

"What the hell was that," Roxy said fuzzily. "Forget what side of the road you're supposed to be on?"

"You scared the," Stormer started. She leaned up between the front seats, readjusting the flower behind her ear. "What the fuck?"

The curse slipped out of her against her usual inclination, but the cause was extraordinary. The highway had been painted, not with the standard white and yellow lines, but in a big, elaborate painting! Like a mural laid flat on the ground. It looked vaguely Latin American in motif, reminding Stormer of the concerts they'd played in Mexico.

"What kind of highway do you call this?"

"It's a big desert," Roxy said slowly, "Lots of time to go all-out on graffiti if you wanted."

"Where the fuck are we," Pizzazz said, frantically unfolding the map again, then there was a loud ripping and the temperature in the van dropped noticeably.

"Wait, is that a sign up there," Stormer asked.

Jetta carefully put the car back in gear and crept forward. It was really dark out, Stormer thought. The headlights made a pool of light in front of the van, but not far. Not far at all.

As it turned out, though, she was right. There was a sign. It had been vandalized too, the paint scraped off, leaving bare, scuffed metal, except for at the bottom where it said Exit 15, and an arrow pointing up and left.

"Okay, an exit," Roxy said, "To where?"

Roxy was still slow to process the written word. Where the metal had been scraped bare, somebody had painted words in spray paint: it just said 'NOOOOOOOO!'

"That's...a little weird," Roxy opined at last.

Stormer glanced up at Pizzazz. She stared fixedly at the mutilated sign, then shook her head and said, "No-good excuse for vandalism. No style at all."

"Think wherever that is has a gas station," Jetta said pensively.

"Better check it out," Pizzazz said.

"I thought you said we had enough," Stormer said, with knowing weariness.

"We do," Pizzazz lied insistently. "But it turns out Jetta's too dozy to drive, so let's see if we can find a motel!"

Admittedly, that was a good reason too, and they found the exit, and turned off the weirdly painted highway and onto the regional road. It didn't take long before they arrived on the edge of town.

"Thank goodness," Stormer said.

"Anybody else hungry," asked Roxy.

They parked outside the first building that looked open. The Moonlite All-Nite Diner, so named by the neon sign, was more or less deserted, except for some transient type with a hood hovering at the edge of the pool of light around the door. The Misfits stuck close together until they were inside.

The fluorescent lights made Stormer blink. The diner was deserted. Somewhere a record - it sounded like Huey Lewis but she couldn't place the song - was playing over speakers. She squinted sleepily up at the menu board, but her face went from sleepy to bewildered:

Strawberry Pie: 2.50 a slice

Strawberry Pie (invisible): 2.75 a slice

Oatmeal: 2.00

Blueberries, salt cubes, cured salmon: .50

Turkey club sandwich with fries...

"Why is invisible pie a quarter extra?" Stormer asked automatically.

"Cured salmon," Pizzazz said flatly.

"Sounds like a bloomin' ripoff to me!" Jetta put in.

"Uh," Roxy said, nodding. Someone had come out from the kitchen to the bar counter. She was young, probably in her first job. You expected nervousness from someone like that, but not the chalk-faced terror currently being sent their way.

"What're you looking at," Pizzazz demanded.

"I...I haven't seen you before," said the young woman. "Are..." horrified realization dawned. Stormer thought she might faint as she whispered, "are you...Them?"

"We're Them alright," Pizzazz said boldly, "And we're here, and we're hungry. Pie, all round!"

" _Visible_ pie," Jetta added pointedly.

"Okay, okay," the girl said frantically, "Anything! I swear, I didn't do it on purpose! I'll get your pie!" And she bolted into the kitchen.

"Is she tripping," Roxy wondered, frowning.

"Who cares," said Pizzazz, "Let's eat and then find someplace to stay."

The girl almost fainted again when they asked after a motel, but she managed to choke out that the Red Rum Motel was a place of 'no subversive intent whatsoever' and that seemed to be good.

The pie was the kind that you only ever craved late at night, but Stormer felt she'd need a few more drinks in her to really appreciate it.

The hooded figure was still hovering outside. Roxy cussed him out for being a creeper, but he didn't react. At all.

It had been a long, long time since the Misfits had been far enough down the food chain to stay in the shag-carpet, peeling wall-paper, slightly grimy type of motel the Red Rum turned out to be. Pizzazz, Jetta and Roxy waited while Stormer ordered the rooms. But as she reported back, brandishing the Misfits company credit card, she said, "We've got a problem, guys. This is going to max out with these rooms!"

"So what," Pizzazz demanded.

"So," Stormer said irritably, "You didn't give us time to grab our own cards - or much cash - before we went haring off after the Holograms! We haven't got enough left over for gas or food!"

"Can we figure out how to fix that in the morning," Jetta whined.

"Yeah," Pizzazz said, yawning and stretching, "Don't worry your head about it, Stormer. We'll figure it out after some sleep."

"I suppose," Stormer sighed, "we can always play a few songs and pass the hat at a bar or something."

"That's the spirit," Roxy said cheerfully. "Bring a little rock to a town like this? We'll make a mint!"

The rooms were old and while technically clean enough, still had a dingy feeling. Stormer felt a weight lift - slightly - as she got into the little room by herself. Whatever obstacles tomorrow might bring, maybe they would at least look easier after sleep.

She was twitchy though; that poor counter girl at the diner, that creepy hooded figure, the messed up highway, and the stale air of this place, on top of all the drama and exhaustion was getting to her. And the possibility that they were going to get stuck here with no money was...weirdly exhilirating. Toughing it out, making their way, giving that creeper at the diner the scare of his life, Misfits style!

Now, there was an idea for a song, she thought. She grabbed her notebook again and went to work, suddenly inspired despite - or maybe because of - her fatigue and anxiety.

There was a radio alarm clock on the bedside table, and she switched it on, looking for music. Some boring easy listening song was just wrapping up, and she waited for some station identification to let her know what the station's angle was as she jotted some notes.

A light beat struck up, and it turned out to be the opening for a radio program. Over the synth chords and cymbal beat, a smooth, deep voice started speaking.

"Are you inspired? Is your mind filled with ideas? What ideas? Who have you told? Where did they come from?"

Stormer's hair fairly stood on end.

" _Welcome to Night Vale!_ "


	2. Chapter 2

Stormer woke up to a scream.

That is, she didn't scream, she was just jolted awake by the sound of one.

"Pizzazz!" Surely no one else could shriek like that.

She dashed out into the hall, and Jetta and Roxy were emerging from their rooms as well. Roxy flew to Pizzazz's door and banged on it so hard the cheap doors nearly came out of the frame.

Pizzazz threw the door open so abruptly that Roxy's fist almost hit her nose.

"What the hell is the matter? Is the building on fucking fire or something," Pizzazz growled. She looked like she'd gotten out of bed to answer the door.

"We thought that was you screaming," Stormer gasped.

"I was asleep until you knuckleheads tried to knock the door down," Pizzazz snapped.

Stormer, already high-strung from the radio the night before, took a deep breath and said, "Okay, look, whatever that was, we're all up now. Let's get some breakfast."

Luckily, the motel had a free continental breakfast, but they still had the obvious problem: no money.

"I tried calling Eric," Pizzazz groused, rejoining them at their table. They were the only ones there, apart from some guy who might have been a narc or something. He was just a little too interested in his coffee and magazine.

"And," Roxy asked.

"And the phone doesn't work or anything! I even tried calling collect on the payphone outside!"

"Ah, crap," Roxy grumbled around a mouthful of bagel.

"Well, we could always break open a vending machine," Jetta suggested.

"No!" Stormer exclaimed. "That's ridiculous!"

"You're right, Stormer," Pizzazz said, "We'll check this town out, find a place to set up, and people will be throwing money at us! I mean, does this look like a town that gets a lot of decent acts? Even Jem and the Holo-jerks didn't come here!" 

"No competition for once," Roxy remarked.

"Okay," Stormer said, nodding. "But where?"

"Well, let's find out," Roxy said. "Let's scope out the place, see if there's a venue, then hit up whoever owns it!"

"Without Eric to shill for us," Stormer said nervously.

"We managed it before Eric came along," Pizzazz said, smacking the table. "So let's get to work, Misfits!"

Before they went out on the town, Stormer remembered to ask the guy at the desk about the scream. He shrugged, "Sun's up early this time of year."

Mystified, they headed out. It was indeed sunny and hot despite the early hour. A helicopter roared by, just close enough to the ground to be startling.

"Alright, fan out," Pizzazz said. "Find someplace in this dust bowl to put on a concert fit for Misfits!"

Night Vale, as the town was apparently named, seemed normal enough in the light of day.

Jetta and Pizzazz went one way, Roxy and Stormer in the other.

"Let's try the parks first," Stormer said. "Outdoor concert."

"You really want to play without AC out here," Roxy said skeptically.

"We can do it at night," Stormer said cofidently. Then she pointed at a sign that said, "Dog Park."

"Stormer, think for a second," Roxy said, "You really want to play a concert standing in dog shit?"

"Oh come on," Stormer said, "You think they don't have to clean..." She trailed off as they came round the corner. The Dog Park - indicated on a sign - was not what she was expecting. It was completely enclosed in walls that looked like black glass, and the trees peeking over the top looked like they were artificial sculptures - iron, it looked like.

As they stared at it, that lurker creep from the diner last night emerged from a small doorway in the rock. He was still wearing the face-obscuring hood. In fact, it was a hooded robe.

"What the fuck," Roxy hissed, "Is there some kind of cult town?"

"Uh," Stormer said, "Let's look someplace else!"

They hastened on, and found 'Mission Grove Park' on another street sign. This was much bigger and...well, it actually looked like a park. Big, open lawn, trees, and some kind of weird sculpture.

"What is it," Roxy said aloud, "Modern art or something?"

Stormer privately felt skeptical that Roxy knew what that meant. But it was a weird sort of shape, and she stared at it for a second before saying, "Well, it looks about right. Let's find the others and see what they've got."

They took off across town, passing a record store. "Posers," Roxy muttered. "Look at that 'New: Led Zeppelin?' We're way out in the sticks now, huh?"

"Yeah," Stormer said, "Hey, there's the others!"

They'd arrived at something that might have been another park. This one was thickly forested with pine trees. Pizzazz and Jetta were standing staring at it.

"Hey guys, I think we..."

"Shh," Jetta said, "Listen!"

A puff of wind rustled the trees and Stormer's eyes widened as she swore she heard words whispered out of the swishing needles.

"You're brilliant. You're such a talented songwriter and performer. Please, sing for us..."

"Yeah, yeah damn right I'm the best," Pizzazz said distantly. "Don't got to worry about that..."

"I can take anything, that's right," Roxy said in soft elation.

"You _believe_ me," Jetta groaned, and she almost sounded like she was going to cry for a second.

Stormer felt herself take a step forward. It looked so inviting, that forest. And then she shrieked in alarm as a white van suddenly passed in front of her and stopped. Another step and it would have run over her foot.

The passenger door opened and a man got out. He was olive-skinned with long dark hair threaded with silver, and was wearing a lab coat. He said, "Whoa, hold on there!"

"What the hell," Pizzazz screeched, "Get out of the way!"

"Sorry, but, you don't want to go in there," the man said.

"Why not," Jetta demanded, shaking her fist.

The man smiled disarmingly, and Jetta's aggression seemed to cool, "Well, you might hear some things coming out of there. Everybody does but, well, I can state scientifically: it's really not safe.

Stormer's head cleared, and she said, "Uh, I think he's right. Pizzazz? Jetta? I think we found a venue too!"

"Venue," the man said. "For what?"

"We're the Misfits," Pizzazz said proudly. "We want to throw a little concert for this dust bowl town." 

Stormer winced, but struck a confident pose to match the others. The man blinked, and said, "Uh, okay. I'm Carlos. Have you talked to the City Council about that? I think you'll probably need a permit."

"Hell with that," Pizzazz said, "We're Misfits," she stressed the name as if this Carlos the Scientist was particularly dumb.

Significantly, she noticed how much he blanched when Pizzazz said that. And he said, "Well, if you say so. I know the Community Radio host, I can tell him to put out the word about your concert, if you'd like."

"That'd be great," Stormer said, smiling despite the earlier strangeness.

"Okay. Well, break a leg, okay?"

He abrutply got back into the van and drove off.

"Weirdo," Roxy said.

"He's doing us a solid, though," Jetta admitted.

"We'd better scope out this park, I guess," Pizzazz said, turning, with obvious reluctance, away from the forest.

"Carlos," Cecil said helplessly, "I'm sure they're great, but I can't advertise for a concert! I haven't heard from their manager or anything!"

"And they don't seem to care about getting council permits, either."

"What? Are they out of their minds?"

"Not yet," Carlos said dryly. "But they will be, at the very least. Unless we do something, so please, sweetie!"

"Okay, okay. I'll bring attention to it. I don't suppose they deserve this, do they?"

"Well, they are called the Misfits," Carlos admitted, "But still..."

"What are you going to do, dear," Cecil said, his tone softening.

"Well, I know people who know people on the City Council, among other places, and so do you."

"That...might be an overreaction, Carlos."

"Let's be ready, just in case, though, okay?"

"All right, Carlos. Love you."

"Love you too."


	3. Chapter 3

The Misfits regarded the contents of their van. "Are we seriously going to have to lug all this to the venue?"

"The van's almost out of gas," Stormer said grimly. "We wouldn't get halfway."

"You afraid of a little heavy lifting," Roxy teased, flexing her not-inconsiderable biceps.

"I'll show you, you jumped-up tart," Jetta growled and hauled out her saxophone and an amp together and stalked off down the street.

As they hauled gear back to the park, Stormer glanced up as a store door opened. It was a record store, as it turned out, and a young, rather aggrieved-looking woman came out lugging a box and a folding table. The box had 'bargains' written on it.

On the return leg, to pick up another load of their gear, Stormer diverted to check out what was in it. If there was anything good she could probably buy it for an autograph or something.

As she flipped through the bargain bin, though, Stormer got more and more scandalized. These were some of the hottest bands going! They were hardly has-beens or one-hit wonders! Although she did take a little satsifaction that there was a Jem and the Holograms record in the bin too.

Then she flipped to the next one and froze. She seized the record, stared at it, and turned it over, looking down the track list.

Stormer burst into the record store to find the young manager dancing to what sounded like someone hitting a gong with a dulcimer.

"Hey! What the hell is this?" She brandished the record.

The young woman stopped dancing, then blinked, and scowled. "You want that old thing?"

"Old?" Stormer almost screamed.

"That's, like, the old wave. Time to make way for the new stuff!"

"But...but..." Stormer spluttered. The woman's exasperated but otherwise frank expression was weirdly frightening. "How much?"

"It's not worth anything," the woman whined, "It's junk! Like, take it already!"

Stormer sprinted down the street and caught up with Pizzazz and the others unloading more gear. "Stormer," Pizzazz growled, "Where have you been?"

"Look," Stormer said, "Look at this!"

The three of them squinted at the album cover in the dazzling sunlight. "Not your best picture, Stormer," Roxy said blankly.

Stormer bit on a remark about Roxy's literacy. Jetta just looked confused, whereas Pizzazz's eyes widened in outrage. "That thieving Eric! Where the fuck does he get off! I haven't seen a cent from this..."

"Of course you haven't," snapped Stormer impatiently. She flourished it and red out the track list on the back. "'Rough Roading?' 'Back Off?' 'Get Out There?'"

"Somebody's writing songs under our name," Pizzazz looked even angrier.

"Yeah, you idiot, I am!" Stormer bawled.

That made all three of the other Misfits blink and back off a little. Stormer just...didn't act like this. Roxy, more gently, asked, "Uh, Stormer, you're freaking us out here!"

Stormer plunged a hand into her jacket and pulled out her notebook, "I've been working on a new song since we got here! I named it 'Rough Roading!'"

"Wait," Pizzazz said, "are you saying..." She almost sounded like she was trying not to laugh, but she was going pale.

"What the fucking hell kind of place is this," Jetta said, brashness suddenly deserting her.

"I don't know," Stormer said. "But I don't want to hang around it another minute!"

"Then let's get to work," Pizzazz said, shaking herself. "We've got a show to set up!"

Stormer hoisted her keyboard under one arm and stand under her other arm. She left that bizarre record in the car, but it filled her mind. As she looked around at the town now, it seemed different, indefinably wrong. Maybe, she thought, it was the helicopter that seemed to be flying by periodically.

When they arrived at the park, Carlos the Scientist was there waiting for them. He nodded amiably, but looked a little anxious.

"The word went out on the Community Radio about your show," he said.

"Thanks," Stormer said, rather wanly.

"No worries," Carlos said. He was carrying what looked like a Geiger Counter or something. Some other people in lab coats were standing spread out around.

"None at all," Jetta asked, rhetorically.

"Where are we going to set up?" Roxy looked around.

"Over by that statue," Pizzazz said, "Nice and central!"

"Uh," Carlos said, "Maybe you shouldn't do that."

"If we kept doing what we should," Pizzazz drawled, "We wouldn't be the Misfits. Now move!"

Grimacing, Carlos stood aside, and the Misfits started setting up in front of the...thing. The civic sculpture or whatever it was. By unspoken agreement, they didn't want to look at it while they played.

The familiar effort of arranging the amps, mics, and instruments took little time. By the time they were starting a sound check, people had started gathering in the park. A couple of people had snacks or lawn chairs. Carlos was talking animatedly to a nondescript guy holding a microphone. Maybe the guy from the radio station?

Stormer pulled off her broad-brimmed hat and tossed it out onto the ground in front of her, and then said into her mic, "Hey everybody! We're passing through, and hope you'll help us out!"

"Now," Pizzazz shouted into hers, "Let's rock out!"

And with a thunderous chord, they cried as one, "We're the Misfits!"

And with that they blazed off into 'We're Off and Running.'

At first, Stormer had a sense it wasn't going well. When she stole a glance at the audience, they seemed to be backing away a little bit, but by the time they went to their second number, people were moving in again, and as they started in on song number three - 'I Like Your Style' - people were moving in around them, and a few people were swaying to the music! Even that pompous record store girl was dancing!

Under the hot sun, sweat was pouring off of Stormer as flung her hair around with the beat. In the back of her mind, she thought she should have stopped for a drink before this. Her head was spinning and the air above the audience looked like it was glowing.

By the time they hit 'Universal Appeal,' Pizzazz had gotten caught up in the music. They felt the need to take things up a notch, and as the chorus kicked in, Pizzazz turned and vaulted up onto the...the...shape. The sculpture. Whatever it was suppose to be...

That's when everything went wrong. The audience suddenly turned and ran, screaming from the park!

"What the fuck," Roxy exclaimed.

"Oh, Jesus," Jetta yelped, and they turned around.

"Help!" Pizzazz shouted.

Stormer spun round and nearly fainted. Something was...happening to the sculpture. It was turning colours - black? Red? - and seemed to be vibrating. Pizzazz had, apparently, sunk into its surface up to her ankles!

"Holy shit," Roxy screamed.

"Help! What is this," Pizzazz screamed. The Misfits were buffetted with mini-tornadoes rolling off the...Shape.

"Quick," said a voice. Stormer looked round to see Carlos running up to them, "Look away from it!"

"But Pizzazz!" Stormer shouted. The wind had gotten louder still, and Carlos pointed up at what turned out to be a yellow helicopter hovering over head. A rope ladder tumbled down from it to Pizzazz. She grabbed it, dropping her guitar, which promptly disintegrated into ashes! The helicopter hoisted her free of the Shape, and the Shape made a groaning sound. It sounded almost angry, and glowed redder than ever.

"Quick, this way," Carlos shouted, and they followed him helplessly across the park, around a tree, and into a ring of red, crystalline stones that had been set into the lawn.

Someone else was standing there: a black woman in a formal suit, muttering a rhythmic phrase to herself over and over again.

"What are we doing," Jetta said, "Let's scarper already!"

"Quiet," Carlos said, "Just look away for now." 

Stormer, Jetta and Roxy looked back and forth between the chanting woman, the scientist, and each other, but after a few moments, the buffetting winds died down, the rumbling groan ceased, and the sound of the helicopter diminished.

When things had settled down, the woman turned to the Misfits and said, "As Mayor, I am afraid I have to serve an injunction against your concert as a matter of public safety."

"Public safety?" Roxy said vaguely. "It's a concert!"

"Roxy, did you really not just see..." Stormer started, but stopped as she saw the way Roxy was shaking and pale with shock.

"The City Council regrets having to restrict artistic expression, but thinks it is important that members of the public not be vapourized. Now," she looked anxiously over Stormer's shoulder, "You'd better go."

They turned as one and saw a group of figures, all in dark robes and hoods, moving slowly toward the stone circle.

"What about Pizzazz," Jetta squeaked.

"No comment," the Mayor said, glancing at Carlos.

"Got it covered," he said. "Let's go!"

"All Hail the Might Glow Cloud," the Mayor shouted after them

"What the hell did that mean," Stormer cried.

They ran like hell out of the park, and were startled when their van roared round the corner. And even more startled when the doors opened and group of kids, none older than fourteen or so, all piled out at once. Pizzazz was there too, sitting in the front passenger seat, clinging to her seatbelt like for dear life.

"It's all gassed up and ready," said the oldest girl, who was scruffy and wearing what looked like a skeletal hand of something definitely not human on her belt.

"Thanks, Tamika," said Carlos, and turned to Stormer, "Take Route 800 Northbound. You'll get on the Interstate and back to California by day's end. Depending on when the sun goes down today, anyway."

"Uh, wh - okay," Stormer said. Then she glanced at Tamika, and saw she was holding that record under one arm. "Hey, that's mine!"

"Uh, technically yes," said Carlos quickly, "but you'd better leave it here. Trust me, causality paradoxes are just not any fun."

Stormer looked at the steely-eyed youth holding the record, and found that a more persuasive argument, nodding.

"Hey, ladies," Carlos said as they climbed into the van. They glanced around at him, and saw that the man with the microphone had appeared next to him. Carlos said, "It was shaping up to be a really good concert."

"We'll certainly be not talking about it for years to come," the radio man said cheerfully.

"Thanks. Bye," Stormer said promptly and climbed into the driver's seat and floored it out of there.

The drive passed in almost total silence, except for a distant howling sound as the sun set. Stormer turned the radio on to keep herself awake, and to drown out the sound. And the dial landed on that same smooth radio voice.

"So, listeners, an eventful, interesting, terrifying, artistic day in town! An insight into what's hot these days, or has been, or will be. And let us hope that our mysterious, hip visitors leave with fond memories of our town and a measure of foresight of future consequences of their artistic vision. Best wishes on your journey, Misfits. Stay tuned next for a barely-audible whisper, speaking profound truths you can't quite hear. And as always, good night, Night Vale. Good..."

Stormer made a choked sound and turned the radio off again. And then, as she looked up, she saw the sign announcing their arrival in California. No road sign ever looked so beautiful.

"Well," Pizzazz said, speaking for the first time since the 'concert,' "at least we know we'll get a hell of an album out of this, huh?"


End file.
